Do you ever come home from vacation and think, oh yeah, this is my life? Shit.
What is wrong with me? I just got home from a vacation, I shouldn’t be this grumpy. But my apartment looks even smaller than I remember, and thanks to my downstairs neighbor everything reeks of greasy Chinese food.
Or maybe the funk is due to the fact I woke up to snow:
Usually I come home and find Daisy running in circles because she’s so happy to see me. Without her, though, my apartment just seems depressing. I’m hoping picking her up from the kennel after work today will snap me out of post vacation funk. If not there’s always alcoholism and drug abuse.